


The New York...Not Really a Job

by kaitlia777



Series: Maine 'verse [2]
Category: Leverage
Genre: AU, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-26
Updated: 2010-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-08 08:21:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/74594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaitlia777/pseuds/kaitlia777
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vacation in the Big Apple</p>
            </blockquote>





	The New York...Not Really a Job

They missed the arrival of the FBI, ATF and Flagstaff Police by less than three minutes. The photos Parker had taken had proven more than enough to justify a raid and with Stone and his two most loyal acolytes still suffering the effects of their run in Eliot (The Feds had been in the compound for over two hours before the first of them stirred), no one put up any fuss. Without anyone to instruct them to attempt to repel outsiders, the over-medicated cult members had welcomed the LEO's with bland smiles and offers of tea.  
After dropping Rachel off with her parents and the deprogrammers the Lewis's had hired, Hardison began making noises about getting them on a flight back to Maine.  
Sophie, however, had alternate plans. "Make those tickets to LaGuardia, Hardison," she ordered with a broad grin that made Nate, Eliot and even Parker a little nervous. "After this job, I think a little R and R is in order. Spas, shopping Five Star Hotels…just what we need."  
Hardison shrugged, having no real objection to a few days in New York City. Nate agreed because he liked making Sophie happy, or at least not mad at him. Eliot and Parker were in agreement about wanting to return to Maine, but the specialist didn't really have a problem with spending time in proximity to so many great restaurants. Maybe he could pick up a few new recipes.  
Turning to Parker, Eliot said, "Hey, aren't they putting in a new security system at MOMA?"  
The thief's eyes widened with glee and she bounced on her toes. "That's right!" she gasped, slapping a hand to her brow. "The installation was scheduled to be finished last week! I forgot cause we were busy being all cult-baity."  
With that, she hopped off to ensure that all her equipment was in her go-bag, Sophie trailing after her extolling the virtues of spas, specifically the Ohm Spa.  
"So that's five for New York," Hardison confirmed, tapping a few keys then grinning. "First class all the way, Baby!"  
Nate made a pleased noise, knowing this bit of news would go over will with Sophie, but admitted to himself that he enjoyed the luxury of the larger seats. Hardison and his computer always seemed to take up a lot of room on flights and when he inevitably nodded off, he sprawled.  
Eliot and Parker did not sleep on planes. Being stuck in a small space with a lot of people and no exit did not appeal to them. They did, however, seem to find entertainment in comparing commercial flights to some of their less conventional methods of travel. Nate and Alec had once listened with great interest as the pair compared traveling in badly pressurized military transport planes (Eliot) to shipping oneself in a big packing crate (Parker).  
It was things like that which made Alec appreciated working with the team. Where else could one hear that sort of story as a first hand account? Not in some IT office, that's for sure!  
**********************************************************************  
Rising over Manhattan's premier shopping and business district, the I.M. Pei designed Four Seasons was a study of stunning views and tasteful style. The rooms were opulent without being garish and the Hotel offered nearly any amenity one could think of.   
Spas, fine dining, gym facilities, just about anything you could need, available at the end of a phone call.  
Hardison booked them five City-View Tower Rooms, on floors 33, 39, 40, 47 and 50 for himself, Nate, Sophie, Eliot and Parker respectively. The rooms all had spectacular views of the city to the Northeast and featured a combined living and bedroom area and full marble bathrooms with deep soaking tubs. All in all, a beautiful environment.   
When they entered the lobby, the variety of high powered business people and various wealthy individuals gave them the once over, as, with the exception of the always stylish Sophie, they didn't quite seem the type to frequent five star establishments. Nate, in his rumpled suit and scuffed shoes, with hair that could stand to be washed more often, seemed more the sort to stay at a Sheraton Hotel. Parker, Eliot and Hardison, with their assortment of jeans, t-shirts and the specialist's flannel just plain stood out among the opulent décor.  
The bellhop took Sophie, Nate and Hardison's bag's, but kept his distance from the other two, who scowled at him and refused to relinquish possession of their luggage. While the hotel employee scurried off to the service elevator, the team entered an empty lift and Hardison snickered, "Nice you two. A little paranoid about your stuff, are ya?"  
Parker hugged her bag and glared, while Eliot pointed out, "You didn't give him your laptop."  
The look the hacker shot Eliot could only be described as appalled. "This is delicate equipment that I use to do my job! No way anyone's touching this but me! But you two don't have tools of your trades in your bags, so what's the big deal?"  
Exchanging a quick look, the thief and the hitter both stared at Hardison for a moment before he groaned, "Oh, what do you have in there? No, wait. I really don't want to know. I'm just gonna go see my room, e-mail Katie, then hit FAO Schwarz. Anyone want to come with?"  
Silence followed his question, causing him to grumble, "Well, fine, be that way."  
************************************************************************  
Upon arriving at her appointed room, Parker admired the view for a moment, noting the sealed windows with a sigh. That was one of the things she hated about modern high-rise buildings. She never understood why people got so nervous about being up high.  
After removing some of the more questionable items from her bag and storing them in a vent, Parker headed back to the elevators. When the doors rolled open, she found herself face to face with Eliot, who had, just minutes ago, disembarked on the floor below. She smiled slightly and rocked up on her toes as he stepped toward her.  
"The windows don't open," she informed him, causing the retrieval specialist to return her smile.  
"I know. Guess they're scared someone'll fall out."  
"I wouldn't fall. Jump, sure, but I'd be harnessed."  
"Not enough architects take your particular skill set into account as a positive when designing these places."  
"I could cut through the glass no problem, but I think that would make Nate twitch. And not in the funny way."  
"Wanna get out of here? Do something?"  
"No and yes."  
Eliot grinned as Parker grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him back into her suite.  
************************************************************************

The action figure--no, collectable department of FAO Schwartz was packed when Hardison arrived. After settling into his hotel room, the hacker had taken the elevator up to Parker's room, but had turned away when he saw the 'DO NOT DISTURB' sign. The same sign was posted on Eliot's door, so he decided to just head out alone.   
He loved his teammates in all their strangeness, really he did. But he was not willing to risk life and limb by bothering them when they posted notices specifically prohibiting it. Because, honestly, he wouldn't put booby trapping their doors past their paranoid little selves. Knowing Sophie was dragging Nate out to dinner, Hardison didn't even try to convince either of them to accompany him.  
The action figure--no, collectable department of FAO Schwartz was packed when Hardison arrived. From the bits of conversation he overheard, a bunch of new Star Trek figures, from the new movie, were the cause of all the commotion. He smirked and thought, Amateurs. He had ordered his online months ago.  
Drifting over to the less hectic aisles, Hardison began scanning the shelves. No. No. No…Oh hold up! Yes!  
Triumphantly, he scooped up a Series 4 Doctor Who Sontaran Stratagem Set that included Donna Noble, a Sontaran Soldier, General Staal and Skorr. Just what his shelf of…Who investments needed.  
Holding his prize against his chest, he elbowed his way through the melee. Next stop, video games!  
***********************************************************************

Sex was about scratching an itch.  
Relationships were messy and just complicated things.  
Other people didn't understand certain (illicit and illegal) aspects of their lives.  
One night stands were good, even better if names weren't exchanged.  
Leave before the other person wakes up.  
Other people are weird.  
These were some of the rules that had governed Parker's social interactions in the past. She didn't do romantic relationships. They weren't her thing and frankly, she didn't see the point in them. On the rare occasion when she decided that she wanted sex, she went out and found someone at a bar. It wasn't hard and they were usually drunk enough not to notice her leaving.  
This thing with Eliot was completely outside her realm of experience. When she woke, the early morning light streaming in through the huge windows, after a night of really fun sex (and damn, she wanted to know where Eliot had learned to do that thing with his tongue. She had met one of his past girlfriends, Aimee, on the job with the killer horses, and wondered if it would be strange if she called her and asked about the tongue thing. It sounded like something Sophie would probably discourage.), Eliot was asleep behind her, his arm draped over her waist, heavy, tan and warm.  
I don't feel trapped, she thought in surprise, looking at the muscular forearm, silver and turquoise bracelets and broad hand. Normally, she didn't really like too much physical proximity, but she found herself feeling pretty good about it at this very particular moment. She could feel his breath, soft against the back of her neck and his body, lined up against her own, firm muscle under soft skin.  
With a smile, she relaxed and let her eyes close, thinking of what had happened the night before.  
They had barely closed (and locked, cause they were still paranoid thieves, after all) the door when Parker stopped and pressed herself to him, anticipation in every line of her body. Eliot met her lips with his own and, not for the first time, she found herself enjoying the lack of height difference between them. He seemed surprisingly yielding, requesting her attention and acceptance, capturing it with his care. She gave in willingly, letting him take control and direct their interaction. His hands slid down her ribcage, ruffling her shirt, to her hips and around to her backside. He found purchase on her thighs and simply lifted, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist.  
Carrying her, he walked her deeper into the room, towards the huge bed, never relinquishing his hold on her lips. Her breath hitched as he gently set her down on the floor in front of the bed. Pulling back, their eyes met and something electric passed between them.  
"Eliot," she breathed, looking deep into his eyes, noting that only a slim ring of blue was visible around his pupils.  
"Parker," he rumbled, tongue peeking out as he wet his lips.  
And just like that, the small modicum of control she had snapped.  
She pulled him close and fell back onto the bed recapturing his lips with hers, rough and primal. Her fierceness and passion matched his own usual approach to things, demanded he obey her, cede to her demands and follow her lead. As he mouthed her neck hungrily, she gasped silently and arched towards him, sucking in a breath as one of his hands worked it's way under her shirt, bare skin on bare skin. The new sensation made her moan with need and frantically tug her shirt up and throw out of the way. But she wanted more, so she grabbed his flannel shirt and jerked it open, buttons scattering all over the room, never to be found again. Something dark flashed in his eyes before he shucked both the ruined flannel and T-shirt, then covered her body with his. Mapping a trail down from her neck with his tongue, he lowered his head to her breast, lavishing his mouth on one nipple, drawing it in and suckling, while stroking the other. She writhed beneath him, thoughts fleeing, quickly replaced with need and sensations.  
He trailed his tongue (hot, wet and tingle inducing) across her overheated skin, lower and lower until she couldn't stand it anymore and her fingers scrambled for the buttons on his jeans. She wanted to feel him against her, skin on skin, a comfort she seldom desired or indulged in. She made quick work of freeing him, nimble hands more than a match for the now snug denim. His hands slid to the waistband of her own pants, eyes darting up to smile at hers as he noted the lack of underwear, and he dragged them slowly, sensually down her legs, blunt nails scraping lightly in their wake. She trembled as her blood burned and her toes curled in anticipation.  
Eliot drew back for a moment, his eyes roaming across her body and savoring the feel of her against him. She quivered beneath him, recognizing the desire washing through him as mirroring her own. He lowered his head to the flat plane of her stomach, eyes locked on her own as he ghosted lingering kisses on every inch of her now exposed skin. Her hands rose to his head and fisted in his hair (she found that she really, really liked being able to wind her fingers in the long strands and tug gently) and she felt his warm breath between her legs. She wanted to growl in frustration or even use his hair to pull him into place as he made no move to use his mouth where she really wanted it. Instead, he moved to the inside of her thighs, strong, skilled fingers and tongue seemingly everywhere at once. The sensations were a blessed torment and, as she finally decided she really needed to force him where she wanted, he slid one blunt finger inside her and all complaints slipped from her mind. She reacted strongly, pushing into his hand in order to draw him deeper, rolling her hips when he added another finger and began to slowly pump them in and out.  
Allowing herself to surrender to the pleasure rippling through her body, she languidly moved with him, writhing on the comforter as he added his tongue to encourage her rapidly building pleasure. Circling her clit with the tip of her tongue, he never touched, and she shuddered and twitched anytime it got too near. Wordlessly, she begged him to stop the torture, to make her loose control and, after a moment, she realized the soft gasps and cries she was hearing were coming from her own mouth. In response, he latched his mouth onto that sensitive nub and sucked gently, his teeth worrying almost imperceptibly, soft but present. Her body spasmed with the intensity of her orgasm and she shuddered, body tightening and relaxing as he coaxed her through the aftershocks.  
After several long moments, she opened her glazed, unfocused eyes and found Eliot above her, resting on his elbows, wide eyes noting every nuance of emotion as they played across her face. When she grinned, he nudged her legs further apart, entering her slowly and she gasped quietly as he moved within her. He moaned faintly and burrowed his face into her neck, lips pressed to her skin, soft, rapid puffs of breath sending shivers through her body, causing her muscles to clench and squeeze him even more.  
Suddenly he stopped, sheathed completely in her body. He was, as always, in complete control of his body, but for once he seemed to be struggling to hold onto that control. He began to move with more urgency and, instinctively, her legs came up to wrap around his waist, holding tight, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, moving in a sort of synchronous pleasure not found outside this particular activity, or a really successful high stakes job. Time was irrelevant, both speeding by in a heady rush and wonderfully, body tinglingly dragging on.  
Sensation and feeling surrounded them, infused them, harkened them back to more basic needs as they filled their need for each other, for comfort, warmth, friendship, understanding and even love. Eliot's thrusts grew more and more rapid and they crested a wave of pleasure until they lay panting, still joined and moving slowly, still overly sensitive bodies humming with sensation.   
Carefully, Eliot rolled them over, so as not to crush her beneath his broader, heavier frame. After a while, she raised her head and looked him in the eye. He smiled softly at her and she grinned and giggled.  
"Next time," she said breathily, her eyes ticking to the big, floor to ceiling windows, "Against them. Looking out."  
Eliot rolled his head around and considered the view before saying, "We can defiantly do that."  
And they had. Twice.

**********************************************************************************

When Sophie led Nate into the hotel restaurant for breakfast on their first morning, she spotted Eliot and Parker immediately. Actually, anyone who entered the swanky dining room probably noticed them, as they did not naturally blend into this environment. She was fairly certain that with the appropriate clothing and personas, they'd be, on the surface, indistinguishable from the other wealthy guests, but they were not in the midst of a job. Eliot was being Eliot and Parker was being Parker.  
The pair were sitting at a table, a nervous looking waiter having just delivered their breakfasts. Parker was perched in her chair, clad in an interesting outfit, even by her standards. She was wearing a white, v-neck t-shirt with three olive diamonds lined up vertically on the right side layered over a long sleeved, olive and pink striped hoodie. Her dark wash, five pocket denim mini skirt was tame enough, but paired with knee high, olive, black and blue argyle socks with calf high, slouchy, buckled black leather boots. A pair of large neon blue plastic framed sunglasses sat by her plate.  
Clearly the other patrons thought she was deranged. Her meal of white bread slathered in mustard and raspberry jelly and lucky charms (marshmallows only, the cereal bits picked out) hold the milk, didn't help.  
Eliot was slumped in his own chair, tucked neatly into a corner so he could warily eye the room. When he caught someone staring for too long, he'd fix a glare on them that would chill a polar bear to it's bones. He was wearing yet another variation of his usual outfit of battered, boot-cut jeans, a worn t-shirt, white and a light weight Haas work shirt with contrasting Oxford stripes in aged blue, white and antiqued red. His boots were heavy, brown and quite possibly steel toed. His meal at least was more normal, the pile of omelet, bacon, sausage and toast probably a bit bigger than the kitchens were used to, but not too odd.  
Though the room was fairly crowded, none of the tables adjacent to them were occupied. It was as if Eliot's general aura of menace was creating a buffer around them, but, since they were guests at the hotel, no one could say anything about them. The only people willing to venture anywhere near them were the staff (and they were reluctant) and the wandering children of various diners. It was actually fairly interesting.  
"Well," Nate said with a smirk, "I see we fit in."  
Sophie sighed and strode over to the other two. Stopping by their table, she chided, "Stop threatening people with your eyes, Eliot!"  
He looked at her unapologetically as Nate dropped into one of the spare chairs. He looked casual, but not entirely out of place in his grey cotton pants, pale blue Oxford shirt and charcoal Hush Puppies. Sophie knew she looked at home in the swanky hotel, resplendent in her rose and blush wrap dress in a vibrant print with delicate cascading ruffles, nude platform pumps and tasteful platinum jewelry.  
With a sigh, she sat as well, smoothing her skirt and nodding to the least skittish looking member of the wait staff. The young man slowly approached, carefully keeping himself in Eliot's line of sight, a sure sign he had seen the results of approaching Eliot from behind. They placed their orders and he scampered away eagerly.  
"So," Nate began, looking at the two who were eating their meals, "You two do anything interesting last night?"  
Sophie was also interested in the answer to that question, as she hoped they hadn't stolen any priceless works of art until the end of their vacation. Things were always easier if you pulled a heist on the way out of town.  
The silent glance Eliot tossed to Parker did not bode well for Sophie's hopes, and the blond smiled brightly as she finished her bite of bread. "Oh yes," she said, a happy little smile on her face that Sophie usually associated with jobs that involved huge piles of money.  
Nate exchanged a glance with Sophie. Parker was happy and Eliot didn't want to tell them what they'd done. This might be a bad thing. "You two didn't knock over MOMA yet, did you?" Nate asked with a nervous chuckle.  
Mouth full of Omelet and sausage, Eliot shook his head and mumbled, "No."  
Parker laughed at Nate. "Of course not, everyone knows that museum security is always tight during an upgrade. You go in right after," she said as if he had made a funny joke. Sophie found it a bit odd that Eliot seemed to relax, sharing a little smile with the blond, who continued, "No, we stayed in and had lots of sex."  
Nate and Eliot both choked, Nate on his coffee, Eliot on his breakfast. Sophie just looked between Parker and the retrieval specialist, who seemed quite adept at performing the Heimlich maneuver on himself. "Oh, you did, did you?" she asked in amusement. "That's lovely, but perhaps something to be worked in to conversation with a bit more finesse."  
Parker cocked her head to the side. "Did I overshare?"  
"Just a bit, Buttercup," Eliot rasped, sipping his tea to sooth his throat. "'S okay."  
Nate just seemed uncomfortable with the whole situation now and Sophie knew he was trying his hardest to repress the memory of Parker's admission. Unperturbed, she said, "Well, I hope you do plan to venture out of the hotel at some point. It's a lovely city."  
Eliot nodded, his own cheeks stained faintly with a rare slight blush. Parker seemed happy her verbal gaffe hadn't deterred Sophie. "Nope," the blond said, "After breakfast we're going to go see if Hardison want's to wake up and come to Staten Island with us."  
Sophie blinked, unsure why that would be their destination of choice. Why Staten Island?"  
"Jacques Marchais Museum of Tibetan Art is there," Parker informed her. "I want to get the lay of the place and Eliot wants to visit the temple and gardens."  
"Sounds lovely," Sophie assured her with a smile.  
"So," Eliot said, clearly trying to act as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, "What's on the books for you two."  
"We're going to Barney's," Sophie informed him with a happy sigh. It had been to long since she'd been to that particular bit of shopping nirvana.  
"Barney's?" Nate said, obviously alarmed. "I thought you said a spa. I was okay with getting a massage while you do…what you do at a spa."  
Sophie smiled triumphantly and Parker grinned too, knowing the grifter had got one over on Nate. Eliot offered Nate a sympathetic look as Sophie said, "Did I forget to mention that the spa we have reservations at is on Barney's ground level. While we're there we might as well enjoy a bit of shopping."  
Eliot, and even Parker, looked at Nate in pity. The hitter reached over and clapped the older man on the shoulder bracingly. "Stay strong, man."  
Nate just groaned.

*************************************************************************

Hardison, as it turned out, had little to no interest in visiting a Tibetan Art Museum. He had even less interest in being disturbed by two of his team mates at 7:45am when he had only gone to bed at 4. But this did not deter his disgustingly alert team mates, both of whom were in his room when he was sure they had not been when he locked up the night before.  
He really hoped Parker had used her mad skills and popped the door open with no damage, because, when Eliot broke into places, he tended to simply kick doors in. Hardison suspected the hotel management would take issue if he were to employ this tactic on their property. Plus, the last time he'd done that when they weren't in the middle of some urgent job, Nate actually sat all of them down and lectured them on why one does not destroy doors unnecessarily.   
The distinct lack of pissed off hotel staff suggested the first option was more probable.  
"Get up!" Parker was saying, obviously at a loss as to why he hadn't jumped out of bed when heard a trip out to Staten Island was on offer.  
"Meh!" he groaned, rolling over and tugging the plush comforter over his head. He really like the comforter. Maybe he'd ask someone where they got them so he could get one for his apartment.  
Moments after the lovely darkness encased him, the cover was yanked back down. "Nooo!" he insisted, once again diving beneath the blanket.  
"Come on!" Parker insisted, plopping down on the side of the bed and bouncing. Thanks to the high quality foamy mattress, he was barely jostled. "I thought you wanted to learn about art. You like Sophie's asides when we're doing a job."  
"In his defense, he's usually more awake when Sophie goes off on an art ramble," Eliot piped up, his voice sounding like it was coming from near the desk.  
Alec peeked out from his cocoon to see that yes, Eliot had wandered from the door to the desk and had poked the idling computer. Seriously, the man had two modes of walking, stomp or silent. It was creepy.  
Eliot looked and saw Hardison's one bleary eye. "You stay up all night on this?" he questioned with a little smirk.  
"Olytifor," he mumbled into the blanket, watching a bit more intently as Eliot peered into the big FAO Schwartz bag. The hitter didn't touch any of the packaged collectables, but he did pick up a large LEGO box.  
"A pirate ship?"  
Pulling the blanket out of the way, Alec said, "Pirates are cool, man."  
Eliot conceded that point with a shrug, then said, "You gonna be up for a ball game tonight? Yankees/Sox at 8."  
"Not gonna miss that," he yawned, then looked over at Parker…who was no longer sitting on the bed.  
A quick scan of the room found her rooting around in the mini bar. When she emerged, it was with a Starbucks iced mocha drink gripped tightly in her hand. "So that's a no on the museum, but a yes on the ballgame," she said, popping the top off and downing half the drink in two mouthfuls.  
He nodded. "Yeah, I'm just gonna catch up on my sleep for now. You two have fun."  
"Okay," she said, sucking down the rest of the drink, then nodding toward the door. "Come on. Let's hit the museum…well, not hit it, like I'd normally hit it…or like you'd normally hit it! Ha!"  
Pleased by her strode toward the door. Hardison tossed Eliot a look and said, "Do you have any idea how much sugar and caffeine was in that?"  
"Yup," the hitter said, exiting at a more sedate pace.  
From the hall they heard, "Eliot! Come on!"  
As Eliot closed the door, Alec called out, "Have fun!"

************************************************************************

Exploring the museum was a pleasant experience, but it wasn't the best venue to burn off Parker's sugar high. So after a couple of hours perusing the exhibits and gardens, the pair found themselves wandering around the city, taking in the sights.  
Oddly enough, as the day went on they found themselves more or less tripping over cordoned off crime scenes, police interviews or foot pursuits, joining crowds gathered to gawk at other people's misfortune. Not that either Eliot or Parker were entertained by other's suffering, but they liked to observe the cops. In their line of work, any insight into the minds of law enforcement professionals was a boon. Plus, some of the cops and crimes were interesting.  
The first oddity they came across was when they were walking down the street in the second police precinct and suddenly Parker was shoved into Eliot's side. When they looked up, they saw that the pushy passerby was in fact running at a brisk pace and dressed in a Bugs Bunny costume. Before they could even comment on an event that was strange even for them, two police detectives, a man and a woman, came hurtling around the corner, shouting for the sprinting hare to stop.   
They assessed the situation for all of two seconds, then Eliot picked up a coconut from a vendors stand, dropped a few bucks into the mans hand, then reared back and hurled the fruit. As with most projectiles he chose to launch at, well, anything, the coconut found it's mark on the back of Bugs' head. The Bunny dropped like a stone.  
Making quick work of cuffing their dazed suspect, the detectives looked around, trying to locate the origin of the coconut, but the pair of thieves had already slipped off into the flow of humanity that constantly populated the streets of New York.  
After that, as they were sitting down to enjoy lunch at a small diner, they overheard the group at the booth behind them discussing the unsub they were in the process of tracking. It was pretty clear the odd little array of people, a somber dark hared man of about 40, a goateed man about ten years his senior, a thirty something African American man, a thin, twenty something young guy, a pretty brunette in her thirties and a twenty something blond woman, were federal agents.  
Their conversation was freaky, as they were apparently in town tracking some very unpleasant killer. But since they were having a meal, they were not talking about their case. No, they were discussing unique and interesting serial killer profiles. When they got to Ed Gein, who wore the skin of the women he murdered, they beat a hasty retreat, really, really not wanting to hear any more.  
The next incident was in the eight district, where several uniforms and a pair of detectives had roped off an area outside a small Italian Deli. A body, one on the owners, lay cooling on the side walk. There was quite a large crowd gathered, even by New York crime scene standards, and they soon discovered they were all watching one of the detectives.  
They were a nice looking pair, him tall and blonde, her a petite brunette. The man wore sunglasses and had his head tilted to the side as he listened to his partner speaking quietly. Something about his stance, the way he held himself and gripped his partner's arm, never looking at the body struck the hitter as a bit odd. Eliot felt a jolt of surprise when he realized the man was blind, must be that cop he'd read about in the papers. The one who'd been shot and blinded in the line and sued to get back on the job. Good for him.  
Eliot, like the rest of the crowd was staring off at the detective, so he was startled when Parker elbowed him in the ribs. He gave her a look that clearly asked what?  
She gave him a wide eyed look, then, with a jerky nod, indicated he should look at the guy standing in front of them, right at the police tape. They couldn't see his face, but one of his hands was behind his back, under his coat, pushing it up and to the side. Tucked into his belt was a large knife, bright fresh blood staining the blade and the denim it touched.  
Turning back to Parker, he mouthed You gotta be kidding me!  
She shrugged expansively and mouthed I know!  
With a sigh, he glanced back at the man, who was now fingering the blade in a disconcerting manner. The crowd was still riveted on the novelty of the blind detective, so Eliot made a move.  
One quick, smooth motion, a leg pulled up to the chest then shot out with impressive force, and the knife wielding loony was sent flying at the uniformed cop manning the police tape. "Oh my God, he's got a knife!" Parker squealed in false fear.  
Her words caused the crowd to scatter, and they drifted off into the distance, looking back once to see about three officers pinning nutso to the pavement.  
In the 16th precinct they ran across a pair of detectives, a lovely brunette and burly, thick necked man, hauling a particularly sleazy looking guy out of an apartment building. The prisoner was loudly protesting this treatment, claiming, "The bitch is lying!"  
Parker glared at the man as the detective stuffed him into a car. She really hated guys like that, but at least the male detective had bounced the jerks head off the door fame as he helped him in.  
Not ten blocks away, they came across another cordoned off area, this one around a blown out shop front. Officers were guarding the scene and a group of techs were gathering bits of debris and evidence. A man with closely cropped brown hair was examining something a woman with a ton of brown curls had just pulled out of the wall, wile a small, blond guy seemed to be swabbing the remains of the window.  
"Wonder what happened there?" Eliot mused as they passed, not to curious, but a bit unnerved by the number of crime scenes they'd happened upon.   
"Acetone peroxide. 2 C9H18O6 + 21 O2 → 18 H2O + 18 CO2," Parker rattled off. "Someone didn't like that place."  
Grabbing her arm, Eliot hustled them away, hoping no one had overheard that little comment.  
The final straw that had them booking it back to the hotel, determined to wait out the rest of the day there until it was time to head out to the stadium was almost running into two detectives who were exiting the Frick Museum, discussing the art theft they were investigating. Eliot was just relieved he recognized Detective Bobby Goren and managed to dive behind a street cart before the man saw him.  
Parker gave him a what are you doing look.  
"That big cop over there," he said, causing her to glance over at the towering man and his petite partner, "I know him. Good guy. But they're looking into an art heist."  
She nodded. "And you don't want them thinking you took the Goya and poking their noses into our business."  
He nodded. "Would you be too upset if we went back to the hotel now?"  
Her smile turned devilish. "Nope. We still have a few hours to kill. I have no problem with spending them in my room."  
Taking her hand, he led her away from the museum. As they walked, he commented, "It's been a strange day."

 

***************************************************************************

The next morning, Sophie found herself making her way to the dining room alone. Nate had chosen to sleep in and there had been no answer from Eliot, Parker or Hardison's rooms. While she enjoyed the company of her teammates, sometimes a little alone time was pleasant. With Nate there was always that undercurrent of tension that neither of them was ready to address. With Parker, she felt a sense of responsibility, to look after the younger woman and help her integrate into more normal society. And Hardison just never stopped talking, be it about a con or a MMORPG or Doctor Who (which Sophie would definitely not admit she watched). Eliot was probably the easiest of the team just to be with. He was quite, didn't expect her to chat or instruct or flirt.  
In fact, he much preferred if she didn't.  
So when she saw the hitter ambling towards the restaurant, she wasn't put out. Instead, she called, "Eliot."  
He stopped and turned, waiting for her to join him. Today, he was clad in blue jeans, obviously one of his newer pairs as they were not yet too faded, and a plain white t-shirt under a long sleeved white oxford. Of course, his boots completed the outfit and he had his hair loose with a few of those pretty beads on the ends of several small braids.  
It was a good look for him.  
As she stepped to his side, his eyes flicked up and down. "Mornin' Sophie. New dress?"  
The Ralph Lauren Silk Faux Wrap Dress in a blossoming floral print had been one of her favorite purchases of the previous day. It was set off perfectly by silver metallic, cross strap sandals and understated jewelry. She was glad somebody noticed, but was really waiting to see if Nate would even remember giving it the thumbs up from a chair outside the dressing room. She was fairly sure her had fallen into a shopping induced waking coma by that point, though he insisted he hadn't.  
"Yes," she said happily, giving a little spin to show the garment from all angles. "How do I look?"  
He gave a small snort, but smiled. "Fishing for compliments," he said, amusement heavy in his voice. "You know you look great."  
She grinned. "One can never hear it too often though."  
He shook his head good naturedly, then gestured towards the dining room. "Breakfast?"  
She nodded and took his arm, allowing him to lead as they followed a waitress, a young woman named Julie (as the waiters from yesterday had seen them coming and suddenly became very, very busy) showed them to their table.  
Nibbling on fresh cranberry scones with orange marmalade, they perused the menu and enjoyed the peaceful quiet of the hall. Only two other tables were occupied, one by an annoyed couple in their 30's, the other by an elderly gentleman reading the Times, as they had missed the early breakfast rush.  
"Did you three have fun at the game last night?" she questioned as they waited for their waitress to return with their pot of assam melody tea and juices, mango orange for her, Açai for him.  
Setting down his menu, Eliot nodded. "Good game. The Yankees spanked the Sox, so life is good," he grinned, then grimaced. "But remind me never to let the two of them loose in a stadium concession area again."  
"How much damage was there?" Sophie asked, figuring the story would entail upended hot dog vendors and possibly some sort of tiny explosion, like a soda machine, or a keg. Anything bigger surely would have made the news.  
"Unfortold damage to their gastro intestinal systems," he muttered. "I swear, they tried to eat their body weights in lousy stadium foods. It's gonna be a while before I can look at a hot dog, burrito or nachos without feeling sick."  
Sophie tutted sympathetically as their waitress approached, placing the delicate tea pot and glasses of juice down smoothly.  
"Are you folks ready to order, then?" she asked politely, withdrawing a small order pad from an apron pocket.  
Eliot motioned for Sophie to go first and the grifter said, "Yes, I'd like the Sweet Honeydew with berries and blueberry banana sauce to start and the Dill Crepes with eggs, salmon, caramelized onions and beurre blanc sauce. That sounds just lovely."  
"The crepes are excellent," Julie agreed, making notations, then turned her eyes to Eliot. "And for you, sir?"  
"Braised Grapefruit with fresh raspberries and the Smoked Wild Salmon Frittata with cheddar and fresh chive cream. Thanks," he replied quickly, then paused and glanced at the closed menu. "Could I get the Belgian Waffles with berries and lavender infused pure maple syrup, too. Thanks."  
The waitress hurried off after they placed their orders and Sophie chuckled. "Weren't you just extolling the horrors of over eating?" she teased him gently, wagging her scone in his general direction.  
He shrugged and leaned back comfortably in his chair. "That was bad food," he said with a smirk. "This here. Is Good Food."  
"Food snob," she accused lightly.  
"Do you have any idea what's in a hot dog?"  
"I don't, nor do I care to," she said quickly, hoping Eliot would not share that particular gem of information. Not that she ate hot dogs on a regular basis, but she did find them quite tasty on occasion.  
Again he shrugged. "So, what'd you and Nate do last night?"  
Now he was teasing. "We saw Waiting for Godot," she informed him with a pleased smile. "It's…."  
"An existentialist play, I know. Two guys waiting for a third," he said, holding up a hand to hold back Sophie's review of the play. "Did Nate do something recently to tick you off, or is this years of anger being worked out?"  
"What?"  
"Spa. Shopping. Broadway," he said, sitting up as Julie returned wit a tray laden with dishes. "It's none too subtle man torture."  
Delicately, she let out an amused huff. Not a snort, a huff. "Man-torture?"  
Taking a bite of his grapefruit, Eliot nodded, but waited to swallow before he answered. "Yup."  
Sampling her own starter, which was quite delicious, Sophie gazed across the table at the hitter who was quietly applying himself to his meal with gusto. She considered how best to answer his question. In a flash of insight, she realized that Eliot was a very good sounding board when one had a problem because he actually listened. Sure, he'd ask a few, initial questions, but then he'd sit back and let you talk it out. It was quite refreshing.  
With a sigh, she placed her fork down on the table and pressed her palms together contemplatively. "The thing is," she began slowly, then raised one hand to make a circling motion, "I feel like we've been in this state of orbiting each other for so long and neither of us knows how to snap out of it. It's like we're characters in a story, previously combative but with obvious Unresolved Sexual Tension, who resist going into a full blown relationship for a rather long time.  
"And now that we could be together, we've sort of stuck in a rut. One of us makes some kind of gesture of affection, the other backs off. Over and over again…So we keep the gestures benign, just spend time together. I invite him to do something and he always says yes, no matter how much he knows he'll hate it. I'll do the same! Did you know we went to a magic expo a few weeks ago! A Magic Expo, Eliot!  
"For God's sake, we're two rational adults. We should be able to do this! Why is this so bloody hard?!"  
Her voice had grown progressively louder as she ranted and by the time she finished a few of the wait staff and the annoyed young couple were peering over at their table with keen interest. Fortunately, Sophie's back was to the room, so she didn't notice the attention she'd garnered. The look Eliot aimed out at the gawkers sent the staff scurrying for work and the couple ducking back down behind the centerpiece on their table.  
"What?" Sophie asked, turning to look around and finding nothing amiss. With a sigh, she looked back at Eliot. "I just mean, somehow, you and Parker are…what exactly, I'm not sure, but it seems to work for you. You seem happy, not determined to drive each other insane."  
"You sure about that?" he asked between bites of his frittata. "The insane part, I mean, not the happy thing, cause we do drive each other nuts."  
"Still," Sophie sighed, "any advice?"  
Eliot sat back in his chair and scratched his chin lightly. "I don't think the two situations compare, but I can say be very clear. Even smart guys like Nate can be stupid about women."  
Smiling a bit at that, she asked, "How did Parker let you know?"  
A small, fond smile crept across his face, softening his features and lighting his eyes. Sophie always enjoyed the change that passed over the hitter when he was calm and happy. "There were little things, but of course I passed them off as Parker being Parker," he informed her, then grinned broadly. "Then on April Fool's, she doused me in glitter and nailed mistletoe up in my office. I finally took a hint."  
Sophie well remembered that day of glue, glitter, feathers and fear. No one had been quite certain what Parker would think constituted a funny prank. No one had been hurt, so they called it a victory, messy though it was. With a laugh, she asked, "So, what do you have planned for the day?"  
Pushing his empty plate to the Side, Eliot said, "Well, first I'm gonna get some peppermint tea into Parker. Good for a bad stomach. Then try to do the same for Hardison. Interesting note, the human body can hold a dozen funnel cakes. It just regrets it after."  
"Oooh," Sophie grimaced sympathetically. "Why would he eat 12?"  
"Eyes were bigger than his gut," Eliot grumbled. "How 'bout you? Plans?"  
"A bit of shopping. Alone. Maybe work on how to broach a certain subject with Nate."  
"Have fun."  
"You too."

 

********************************************************************

 

The remained of their time in New York was blissfully without incident. Days were spent, shopping, sightseeing and generally unwinding.   
After recovering from their stadium food induced stupors, Parker and Hardison convinced Eliot to spend the day lounging around the hotel. By the time Sophie returned from her shopping trip, she found them relaxing in the giant whirlpool tub in the hotel's on site spa. At some point, Nate had found the trio and was immersed in the frothy water to his neck. All of them looked on the verge of taking a nap right there, but she knew they were all either too smart or too paranoid to sleep in the water.  
"So, what have you three been up to today?" she asked, taking a seat on the edge of one of the chairs that surrounded the pool.  
There were a series of tired murmurs, then Hardison said, "You in for some group sightseeing tomorrow?"  
She smiled. "Sounds lovely," she replied. "Any idea what you want to do?"  
"Hayden Planetarium."  
"Go to Lido."  
"Guggenheim."  
"Museum of Sex."  
The reaction was comical. Slowly, four heads turned to regard Parker, eyes wide and mouths slightly agape.  
"What?" the thief asked with a grin. "It's a real place. I want to see the "Kink –Geography of the Erotic Imagination" exhibit."  
Amused and startled glances were exchanged all around and Hardison said, "I have no idea how to respond to that."  
Eliot gave himself a shake and said, "You respond, hell, yes."  
************************************************************************  
The many and varied activities decide upon proved to be interesting and uneventful over the next few days. The Museum of Sex was unanimously voted the surprisingly favorite activity, a fun and quite intriguing place. Nights were occupied with shows, dinners and other nocturnal activities. After nearly a week, Nate indicated it was time to be heading back to Maine, back to work, or at least back to looking into new jobs.  
No one protested. After all, the best part about traveling now was having a home to return to.


End file.
